


Loving you Silently

by sophie_scribblz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Universe, Fluff, Getting Together, God i love them so much, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, akaashi is too pretty to be real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:13:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23505181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophie_scribblz/pseuds/sophie_scribblz
Summary: There are a hundred thousand people in a lifetime. They fade in and out, as friends or enemies or something else, but there will always be one who's different from the rest. Different, because they will never leave. They will be the one who stays with you through it all, the one who's closest to you, the one who holds your heart, forever.This is Akaashi Keiji's journey to finding that someone.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji & Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 14
Kudos: 314





	Loving you Silently

Akaashi Keiji is pretty. Or, at least, to the general public, people consider him pretty. They say it’s his delicate features, his high cheekbones and his slanted eyebrows and the way his nose is ever-so-slightly upturned, the way his sharp jawline draws to the point at the base of his chin and how his hair is never combed but is somehow still sleek, still curling in all the right ways. They say his beauty is effortless, the kind that is just _there_ no matter what, the kind that whispers from his held-back shoulders and curved spine and long, strong legs that always move with purpose, with grace.

Keiji doesn’t mean to be pretty, but that’s part of why people love him.

Ever since his first year of middle school -- February fourteenth, to be exact -- Keiji became suddenly aware that people, and girls, especially, were looking at him differently than the rest of the boys in his class. Keiji isn’t a people person, not then, not now, and all of the sudden there were all these girls, asking for his attention, asking him to _just give me a chance, Akaashi-kun,_ and Keiji didn’t know what to do.

There’s another thing that made itself clear in Keiji’s first year of middle school.

Keiji is a total romantic.

Girls would ask him out and he’d have to respond by asking their names and god, it hurt. He’d tell them that they should have someone who’d want to give them everything, who’d noticed and loved them from the start and he’d have to explain that that someone isn’t him. Keiji always feels terrible after the girls turn away from him, their fake smiles dropping and trying to hide the way their hands shake as they wipe at their tears. Keiji doesn’t want to hurt anyone. Not then, not now.

Deep down, there’s a part of him that’s resentful, resentful at the way people mistake his shyness for brooding mystery and they fall for his sharp features and athletic build because they don’t want _him,_ they want that picture, whatever they think he is. None of them know him, and he thinks probably a lot of them don’t want to.

Things like that are what hurt his romantic little heart and he hides it away, pulls it close to his core where no one will reach it. He’s just a pretty boy, a pretty face that girls want to be able to point at and say to their friends, ‘ _that’s my boyfriend_.’ They think that if they’re pretty enough, demure enough, cute enough or sexy enough, he’ll want them.

He thinks that maybe at the beginning, there were girls who really did want to know him, who really thought he was something special, something they wanted to protect and have and love. Those girls went away, though, after the more popular girls started going after him, started leaning over his desk with the top few buttons on their uniforms undone and then dropping their pencils in his lap only to bat their long, extended eyelashes at him and murmur out a pretty little ‘oops’ as they make a show of getting it back.

Keiji always averts his eyes when they do this, an uncomfortable squirming in his stomach as he bites his lip and furrows his brow and wonders why he’s so unhappy. His male classmates always crowd around his desk after these things happen, all shouting a thousand questions, why is he so _lucky?_ Why doesn’t he look, they obviously want him to, why doesn’t he have a girlfriend when half the girls want him?

So in his third year of middle school, he tries it and asks the prettiest girl in the grade to their school dance, the one who’s always surrounded by friends and boys and a thousand others who hope that maybe if they spend time with her, they’ll get a little prettier, too. She says yes, squealing high-pitched and her friends all squealing, too, just the faintest traces of jealousy behind their heavily-lined eyes. 

The girl texts him all the time. He usually texts her back and, after a little while, he finds that she’s a pretty cool person. He reasons that of course he must feel that spark of electricity when he looks at her that all the other boys in his grade seem to feel and that he just doesn’t recognise it. He keeps it up for the weeks leading up to the dance and pretends he doesn’t notice when they eat lunch alone behind the school building -- the most ‘romantic’ spot on campus -- that her friends are always just around the corner and he tries to ignore the odd feeling that crawls up the back of his neck.

The day of the dance comes and Keiji’s tie matches her dress, a light, sparkling blue like the shallows of the ocean and a cloudless sky. Her dress is beautiful and it shimmers as she moves, the gentle folds of fabric falling away from her shoulders and pooling around her knees and ankles.

They talk, this and this and this and Keiji wonders how dating someone is supposed to be different than just being friends with them because it all feels the same; the texting, the talking, the laughing. It’s all the same, so how is dating different?

They dance, Keiji’s arms on her hips, her hands cupping the back of his neck. He thinks maybe this is different, but when he smiles at her it's the same smile he shows all his close friends and when he laughs it’s the same laugh he has at his nii-chan’s corny pun or bad joke. The dancing is different, but the rest is the same.

Keiji is proven totally and completely wrong when she leads him behind the back of the school gym and yanks his head down, her lips smearing bright red onto his own.

All he can think in that moment is that her mouth feels wrong and greedy and like everything he doesn’t want and the moment her tongue slides next to his he jolts back, gut sparking in all the wrong ways and he stutters out an apology before fleeing, wiping his mouth and tears on his jacket sleeve and running all the way home thinking _what is wrong with me?_

The next day, he breaks up with her. She says she understands.

She never texts him again.

After that, Keiji stays as far away from girls and love and kissing as he can manage, hiding in big groups of boys that don’t really talk to him or care that he’s there except for the fact that pretty girls will come and ask them about him, giving them a chance to try to charm them the best they can. Keiji says he doesn’t mind that they use him as a twisted sort of bait, but deep, deep down, the little romantic part of him aches.

That year is the year that Keiji picks up a volleyball for the first time. That year, he learns that his long, deft fingers can be used for something else and that there’s a place where his mind can go that fills him like fog, drowns out the hurt and the ache and the lit flame of anger that burns no matter how the wind blows.

Setting, volleyball, practice. These are the things that get him through the last part of his middle school career. He graduates and finally breathes out, feeling the tension and the drama that followed him for so long that ripped at his shoulders and back and legs finally dissipating, leaving into the air and finally, _finally,_ Keiji can let it become the past and leave it behind.

Those things are also what lead him into the Fukurodani Volleyball club, to one particular second-year with bright eyes and a crazy smile and boundless energy.

Bokuto Koutaro isn’t anything like anyone Keiji has known before. He’s _so loud,_ for one thing, but when he gets on the court and their third-year setter sets for him it all narrows down to one single point of focus, his eyes going dark, and when Bokuto spikes the ball the world slows to a stop and Keiji can’t find his breath.

Off the court, Keiji would say that Bokuto is the silliest person, maybe ever. He loves owl puns and barbecues and rain and laughing and before long, before he even realized, Keiji considers his high-energy senpai his best friend. Whenever Keiji finds him during school, Bokuto is always talking to someone, his arms waving and his words coming fast and loud and happy. No matter who it is, no matter how shy they may be, they’re always responding the same way; always laughing and joking and never unaffected by the light that is Bokuto. He’s always engaging, always happy and no one can help but be happy, too. He’s just one of those people who has so much positive energy, so much happiness that it flows out of him, easy as air, unable to be contained.

Bokuto is beautiful, but not in the ways that people see.

Bokuto doesn’t get pulled away from his friends by blushing girls with long pigtails and red lipstick and he doesn’t get confession letters in his locker or homemade sweets like Keiji does. Keiji doesn't understand; Bokuto is beautiful and why doesn’t anyone see?

The year turns and Keiji finds himself happier than he’s been in a long, long time, with Bokuto’s silly messages always collecting on his phone, a picture of an owl umbrella or an owl sweatshirt or owl headphones always followed by too many emojis and always leaving a little smile on Keiji’s face that lingers long after he shuts off his phone. 

Then there's that one day when Bokuto tells him some new ridiculous owl pun and his smile is just so _bright_ and he looks so happy, so full of life that Keiji can’t help but smile too and then he feels that all-too familiar squeezing in his heart and his stomach drops and then it’s all so clear, so obvious that he can’t understand why he hadn’t seen it before.

He’s in love.

The rest of the day, he jumps every time someone talks to him and he can’t focus on class or on practice and for once volleyball doesn’t clear his mind, doesn’t fill him with that comforting fog because Bokuto is there with his big smiles and warm hugs and Keiji can’t _think_ of _anything_ but Bokuto, Bokuto, Bokuto.

Bokuto insists on walking him home and it’s all the same as it is every day except that Keiji’s heart is going wild in his chest as he weakly tries to convince Bokuto that it’s okay, he doesn’t need someone to walk him home.

“But I want to walk you!” Bokuto says and he grabs Keiji’s hands and his eyes are wide and hopeful and Keiji can’t help but say yes.

When Keiji gets home, it’s with a mind full of Bokuto laughing and Bokuto waving his hands in the air happily and Bokuto offering to take his bag and he sighs, letting his head flop face-down into his pillow. Why him? Why did he have to fall for the loud second-year who’s just so damn happy all the time?

Not to mention, the loud, happy second-year who is very distinctly a boy.

Keiji groans.

The next day, Keiji notices the way he’s so naturally gravitating towards Bokuto and he’s suddenly very aware of the fact that Bokuto touches him all the time, just a half-second that Bokuto grabs his hand to drag him to look at a classmate's owl headband or a casual arm slung around thin shoulders or the way their fingers brush when they walk from class to class. 

Keiji thinks he might die.

Bokuto makes him _feel,_ more than he’s ever felt. When he’s with Bokuto, it’s like the whole world is a little more in-color, a little more beautiful. Bokuto smiles and it’s like the sun just came up, Bokuto laughs and it’s birds singing in the spring. 

The days fly by and Keiji finds his new normal in the way he always wants to be near Bokuto, always wants to touch him and kiss him and hug him. He stays by Bokuto’s side and learns that Bokuto’s funks in the middle of matches can be worked around, can be dealt with and Bokuto can be reigned in and can refocus.

He learns the taste of victory, bright and bursting on his tongue when they win at their Inter-high Tournament and he learns the sting of defeat when they lose at Nationals, learns that he can’t stand it when Bokuto goes all but silent and he tries to pretend that his eyes aren’t watering and that his lip isn’t trembling. 

Those times -- when they lose, when Bokuto’s happiness cracks and falls away, leaving him cold and exposed and alone -- those are the times that Keiji wants to pull Bokuto up, wants to wipe his tears away with gentle thumbs, wants to whisper _everything will be okay_ and wants to lean forwards, slowly, carefully, mouth barely brushing Bokuto’s in a quiet kiss, a comfort, a promise and it won’t be anything like it was with his ex, it’ll be sweet and innocent and hesitant and everything perfect.

But he never does, never kisses Bokuto, only imagines it over and over in the silence of his bedroom in a thousand different ways a thousand different times. But he never kisses him.

Then his second year starts and Bokuto is elected team captain and without a moment of hesitation he makes Keiji his vice captain. Keiji pretends it doesn’t touch him as much as it does.

And Keiji goes on, loving him silently.

Summer turns to fall and fall turns to winter and Bokuto will graduate soon and Keiji’s tearing himself apart, all too aware of the ticking time bomb over his head and that soon it will detonate and Bokuto will be gone, gone, _gone_ and he’ll never know how Keiji feels about him.

He spends every moment he can with Bokuto, always staying late with him after practice ends and walking to and from school with him and walking with him between classes because soon it’ll all end and Bokuto will go to university and everything will end.

So it’s not all surprising the day he asks Bokuto to come to his house to help him study but then it becomes him helping Bokuto study and then their late-night study session becomes a sleepover and they’re watching some cheap romance movie that Bokuto wanted to watch for one reason or another, curled up on Keiji’s bed. Keiji looks over at Bokuto while the two characters on screen confess their undying love to each other and Bokuto is smiling, that little half-smile that makes Keiji’s heart stutter every time he sees it. His eyes are half-lidded and soft and just a little bit longing and Keiji can’t understand _why,_ why would Bokuto look like that?

The thought bugs him long after the movie ends and he and Bokuto are getting ready for bed, Bokuto sleeping in pajamas he borrowed from Keiji’s father because Bokuto could never fit into anything Keiji owned. His mom pulled out a futon beside Keiji’s bed and a set of sheets and a blanket and Bokuto sits in the middle of it, his hair wet and down and dripping water onto his shoulders.

“Your hair is a mess, Bokuto-san. Come here,” Keiji says, unthinkingly, holding out a towel. 

“Okay, ‘Kaashi!” Bokuto says, shutting his phone off and tossing it to the side. He bends down a little and Keiji covers his head with the towel, rubbing the duo-toned hair between folds of fabric. Bokuto laughs. “‘Kaashi, not so rough!” he says, still smiling, and he grips Keiji’s wrists and tilts his head upwards and they’re nose to nose and Keiji backs up so fast he walks straight into his dresser, heart beating erratically and palms sweating. “You okay, Akaashi?” Bokuto asks, taking a step towards him, head tilted ever-so-slightly.

Keiji takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go to bed.”

Keiji turns off the lights and pulls up the blankets, blood still rushing in his ears while Bokuto talks and talks. He rolls to the edge of his bed, head pillowed in his arms as he gazes down at Bokuto as pale moonlight makes him glow in the darkness. Keiji talks, too, his nonsense filter decimated by the time and they laugh into the silence of the night. Keiji sees the clock on his bedside table that tells him it’s nearly one in the morning.

“We should go to sleep, Bokuto-san,” he says after a beat of sleepy silence.

“Yeah,” Bokuto agrees quietly. His hair is a mess on his pillow. “G’night, ‘Kaashi,” he says.

“Good night, Bokuto-san.” Keiji says, too. He rolls over, head swimming, curling in on himself because Bokuto is _right there_ and Keiji wants nothing more than to have strong arms wrapped around him--

“Hey, ‘Kaashi, I’m cold,” Bokuto speaks up. The clock reads one-thirty.

“You can have my extra blanket,” Keiji says, but Bokuto doesn’t look satisfied.

“Can I come up there with you?” he asks, hesitant, quiet, and Keiji’s glad for the darkness to conceal the way his face heats.

“S-sure,” he says after a moment, lifting the comforters.

Bokuto smiles, big and wide and slips under the comforters and his face is only centimeters away from Keiji’s and Keiji can see tiny, barely-there freckles across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Keiji meets Bokuto’s eyes and for a moment, Bokuto looks back and his expression is open and peaceful and he’s so _beautiful,_ it takes Keiji’s breath away.

“Good night, Keiji,” Bokuto murmurs, and Keiji smiles, tries not to feel sad because he’s sure that Bokuto will never mean anything by that.

“Good night, Koutaro,” he murmurs back and he closes his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him. The room is quiet, the only sounds are his and Bokuto’s breath, easing in, then out, and Keiji’s not sure how much time passes when he’s just lying there, Bokuto close, pretending it could be something else.

Keiji is right on the edge of unconsciousness when Bokuto shifts ever-so-slightly closer to him and his hand brushes at the hem of Keiji’s soft sleepshirt and he whispers quietly, barely there, “I love you.”

Suddenly Keiji is very, _very_ awake and his heart is in his throat and he’s struggling to breathe because _he’s sure he didn’t imagine that._ His mind is running a mile a minute but there’s no way around it, Bokuto certainly, without a doubt, one hundred percent just said _I love you_ to Keiji.

“Bokuto-san?” he says, eyes wide and Bokuto looks at him for a moment and then he’s scrambling away from Keiji, a mantra of _shit, shit, shit_ tumbling from his lips and he falls off of Keiji’s bed with a dull thump.

“I’m s-sorry, ‘Kaashi, I thought you were asleep!” Bokuto cries, breath coming fast.

“You love me?” Keiji asks, propping himself up on his elbows and _he can’t believe it,_ this must be a dream. 

Bokuto hides his face in his arms and nods, weakly. 

“Bokuto-san?” Keiji says, and Bokuto doesn’t respond, just stays, sheets twisted around his ankles, his face hidden from sight. “ _Koutaro,_ ” Keiji says, louder, more insistent, and Bokuto finally looks up, his lip wobbling. “I love you, too,” he whispers, a smile on his lips. “God, I love you so much.” 

“...you do?” Bokuto says, and his eyes are wide and hopeful and just a little bit disbelieving. “But you’re so beautiful. So many girls love you. Why would you like me?”

“You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” Keiji says softly, smiling, god, he can’t stop smiling.

“You think I’m beautiful?” Bokuto asks, and now he’s smiling a secret smile, one Keiji’s never seen and one he always wants to see, over and over.

Keiji stands and hops from his bed and kneels right in front of Bokuto, and he can’t help reaching up, his hands brushing the soft skin beneath Bokuto’s jaw. “You’re _so_ beautiful, Koutaro. You’re so happy, all of the time, and it's so strong that no one can help but be happy, too. When you smile, god, I feel like my whole world lights up. Koutaro, I love you so _much,_ it’s killing me not doing anything about it _.”_ Keiji whispers and Bokuto glows in the moonlight, his messy hair a silver halo around his head.

“ _Please kiss me,”_ Bokuto says, smile widening, eyes shining.

Those three words send sparks up Keiji’s spine and he leans forwards and Bokuto leans, too, and their lips meet in the middle.

It’s nothing like he remembers.

The second his lips touch Bokuto’s, there’s an amazing moment, but it isn’t loud or flashy like everyone said it would be. It’s this gentle heat, these perfect embers glowing inside and it’s gentle and quiet and easy and it all feels so overwhelmingly _right,_ Keiji wants to laugh or cry or both because it’s finally happening, he’s finally kissing Bokuto and everything in the world is right. 

They pull apart, just a little, and Keiji looks into Bokuto’s eyes and he looks so open, so happy and Keiji laughs, can’t help it, and Bokuto’s laughing too and they’re sitting on the floor of Keiji’s bedroom in the middle of the night, holding each other and laughing and laughing.

The next time Bokuto kisses him, and it feels a lot like forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i love them so much
> 
> until next time!


End file.
